Daddy's Wives

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Savannah has recently shared her testimony on how God is the foundation for dealing with depression, but she has also been to a therapist and still takes medication to help her each day. How has God provided healing for your depression?

Savannah shares her testimony and how GOD was the center piece and foundation for her dealing with depression. As one of the guest on "Things That Make You Go SHHH" which is a discussion panel that confronts the problems that everyday people face in and out of the Church but are afraid to talk about, sponsored by Nicole Cleveland of Breathe Again Magazine and A Sisters Heart @ The Life Center in Chesapeake. In her testimony of child sexual abuse starting at the age of 5 until 27, losing her son to a violent murder in Mexico, and losing her husband at the age of 45, she has had much in this life span to be depressed about. But by the grace of GOD, Savannah was able survive. She has been to therapy and still takes medication to keep her physical body calm. However she strongly believes that a person must seek GOD first in order to begin any kind of healing or treatment, and GOD will provide doctors if need be, as well as prescribe medication if need be. We just have to have faith in GOD as the Great Physician and healer.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Praise God, and thank you all for visiting and hopefully becoming a follower of Daddy's Wives. Our mission is to make this a blog of comfort and encouragement for those who are looking to heal from the traumatic effects of child sexual abuse as well as increase awareness and preventive measures against child sexual abuse. I will be posting updates on book signings, literary events, discussion panels, as well as links and resources to help us all in the healing process. Once again I look forward to the uplifting words and support we will be providing one another.

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Daddy's Wives

About Me

I give all praises and honor to God. I have trusted in God to walk me through this journey. I am confident that God's angels have watched over me during the difficult times in my life. This blog was created for those who have been sexual abused as a child and are in the healing process. It is a home for us to comfort one another and support each other as we face the challenges of each day. My book entitled "Daddy's Wives" is my true life testimony on how God alone brought me out of the nightmare of sexual abuse as a child at the hands of my father. I have taken a lifelong commitment and I am dedicated to encouraging and motivating other victims of child sexual abuse that we can make it, we can become SURVIVORS!
Savannah M.

CHAPTER 1 from "Daddy's Wives"

My story begins on a warm, bright, and sunny day in May. What a beautiful day it is. One of those days you wake up and hear the birds singing and the rush of a cool breeze coming through the bedroom window. I can hear Jada, my granddaughter, down the hall singing and practicing her graduation march. She tells us to hurry and get dressed because she wants to be on time. My daughter Alexis and I smile at her and hurry to get dressed. Today is my granddaughter’s pre-school graduation. It is one of the biggest days in the mind of a young child, as well as for the parents and relatives of that young and innocent soul.
My daughter and I are pulling into the Lakeland Elementary School parking lot. There are several people getting out of cars and walking toward the school. Jada is so happy; she sees some of her friends and calls out to them. She asked her mom if she can go with them and her mom gives her that motherly nod of approval with a loving smile. They all look so nice and grown up with their little graduation clothes on.
As we enter the auditorium, it is vibrant with people talking and hugging each other and looking for seats. You can feel the unconditional affection in this room as people gather to support the young lives of those they care so much about. We find some good seats on the third row, near the end. I look around and there are mothers, fathers, grandparents, and friends all around. The air is full of joy and filled with a festive mood. I stand and look toward the door; I can see my granddaughter’s class appear in the doorway because they will be the first class to march. I am so excited that my heart jumps with joy. I touch my daughter directing her to take pictures of Jada standing in line. I tell Alexis, Jada is the fourth girl in line. Jada looks cute with her pretty pink dress, pink and white socks, and white shoes. Her hair is in a cute bun on top with a white flower. She is beautiful. My daughter stands up to catch the first shot of Jada with the camera. As her class marches in to the beat of “The Graduation March”, lights start flashing everywhere with people standing in their chairs with cameras and camcorders catching that great moment. Everybody is yelling and clapping proudly. As Jada is approaching the aisle, turning toward the stage, I look at her smiling face. There she is, five years old, acting so mature, looking so innocent. She is marching to the beat on time, like a college graduate. Jada passes by with her head held high. And as her classmates pass by in a single line they walk proudly too, looking like winners of an Oscar award walking the red carpet. To my surprise tears come to my eyes and begin to run down my face. I am overwhelmed by everything that’s going on around me.
Then I realize something is happening. My mind and all my thoughts are not in this auditorium any more. My mind begins to play back my life when I was five and I realize I am in the past. I am now remembering back over forty-five years earlier.
The tears begin to flow more, and my heart begins to ache, my throat now begins to fill with tears. I can see myself at five years old, but this little girl is crying and this little five-year-old girl is hurting. All of a sudden I feel like jumping up and running out of this auditorium. My mind is telling me to run but my feet are not moving. What am I going to do? Just as my mind leaves, it returns. My mind takes me back to this past, and then my mind returns to the present because I can now hear the people begin to clap as the children are seated. I realize this is my granddaughter’s day. This is her graduation day. Jada had worked and practiced long and hard for this day. As I look on the stage I see her eyes searching the crowd to find her mother and her grandma. I wave and she waves back and this reassurance brings such a peaceful look over her face.
The teachers prepare to pass out the awards. As each child’s name is called he stands up and walks across the stage. The cheering and clapping is loud. Each child after receiving their award turns and bows to the crowd. I am so happy for them. My granddaughter walks across the stage, up to the teacher, and reaches for her award. As she receives it, she turns to the audience and says,
“Thanks, mom.”
Everyone laughs and claps louder. Although my heart is filled with joy, my mind is filled with thoughts of my childhood. I began to pray,
“Dear God, please give me the strength to hold back this awful pain and hurt I am feeling. Please Lord, not now. Let it be later when I can deal with it.”
After the ceremony, my daughter and I take Jada out to dinner at a restaurant. We let her choose which restaurant. She quickly shouted she wanted to go to Captain Lobster’s & Seafood. She loves seafood, especially lobsters. She loved the lobster shells because she always wants to take them home just so her mother could end up throwing them away.
At the table she goes on and on about her graduation day. It was so good to see her so happy and smiling again because in January, Jada’s grandfather had passed away. She loved him very much. She was there the morning he was having a heart attack and died at home, she was strong during this time and she said,
“My Orlando (she always called him that) is in heaven and he said he was all right because he was with God.”
She was my rock during this time, just a child, but so strong. Today she is full of joy and I am happy for her. She even shows the waiter her two awards she received and to our surprise they bring her a little cupcake with a candle on it, which makes her just laugh and laugh so hard. She hugs the waiter and kisses her mama and me.
Then my daughter tells her she has another surprise for her. This was a trip to the movies to the new Disney picture that Jada had been so anxious to see. She asks the server for her lobster shell to take home. Then she walks around the table and says to me,
“Grandma, I love you.”
And I say,
“I love you, too.”
Jada then turns and gives me this long hard hug, and she was right on-time. I needed to hear those words and I needed that hug. Jada and Alexis left the restaurant. As I watched them leave out the door and get into their car a strange feeling came over me that disconnected from the moment.
I got up and decided to go home. I walked in the house, took off my shoes and started to undress. I suddenly stopped what I was doing and said to myself,
“I need to write about these feelings that have been trying to come out all day.”
After two hours at my computer I got up to stretch my legs and prepare a cup of coffee. Everything seemed different; I begin to have strange feelings consume me. I felt there was this person inside of me crying to come out.
Today was the first time in my whole life that this little girl inside of me was crying to come out and she wanted to communicate with me. She wanted to say so many things that I never could do or say before.
So I went back to the computer and my mind began to play my past like an old movie on a black and white screen. I could see me, Savannah, a four-year-old little girl playing outdoors, jumping rope on a hot sunny day. Oh, it was such a lovely day and I was such a pretty little girl, two long ponytails, with pretty ribbons, and a cute face with a smile that went from ear to ear. I was very short with pretty fat little legs, like my momma. On this day I was dressed in a white dress that seemed to blow and move with the wind. I looked like an angel. I was so happy and carefree at this age. I loved playing with my dolls and sharing with my sister. We would make mud pies and set up play stores to sell leaves and rocks to my brothers. I loved the sunrise in the early mornings, I loved getting up with my mama and looking at the night’s sky filled with the shining stars, I loved when my mom would take us in after playing late outdoors. I loved everybody! I loved life!
My thoughts took me back to when I was a child and we lived at 1307 Macon Street, which was my grandparents’ house. It was a big house with two stories and was painted white with green trimmings. There was a very large back porch and when you opened the door there was this large kitchen where I remember eating some of the best soul food I have ever tasted. The next room was the den with grandpa’s leather recliner sofa and big radio. Grandpa was always playing the radio with a preacher preaching or religious music. To the right of the living room was a bedroom; straight ahead was another large bedroom that led to the front room. From the front room, there were a set of stairs that led to the four bedrooms on the second floor. There was a large screened in porch with a green swing that all the children loved to play on. Only three of us could sit in the swing at a time, but we took turns. There was this huge peach tree in the back yard, and in the summer, my grandpa would let us pick peaches from his peach tree, and we would eat until our stomachs hurt.
My grandmother would sometimes make peach cobbler, which was delicious. Sometimes she would preserve them and they would end up being the best jam in town. I can almost taste that peach jam on some of grandma’s homemade hot biscuits right out of the oven.
My mother, Maureen Oakes, was married to a Marine Staff Sergeant whom I saw only once in my life and never as a child. He was always gone, always out to sea for months and months. My mother told us that our father’s name was Darnell William Oakes, and she had borne him four children, my two brothers, Darnell Jr. and Greg, my sister Tracy, and me.
My mother, Maureen Oakes, was the baby of her mother, Ruby Wright and Walley Wright. She was her mother’s favorite child and she always did as she pleased. As a young woman, she was very promiscuous. Because of her wild lifestyle her parents sent her to New Jersey to live with her oldest brother and his wife, hoping to change her ways. She did the same in New Jersey so her brother sent her back to Wakefield, North Carolina. It was there she met and married Darnell William Oakes. While he was out to sea, Maureen still lived the nightlife.
We left my grandparents’ house and moved to this large and spacious home on Coventry Road. We had a good time living there with the wide backyard and the trees that my brothers loved to climb. In the summer the house was cool with the air conditioning and in the winter the house was nice and warm all through the house. The house was white with green shutters, a pretty white picket fence, green grass, and yellow sunflowers that grew tall.
Then one day my mother traded this spacious four-bedroom house, which was in a rather affluent neighborhood, with my Aunt Doris. She traded for this small crummy old apartment over my grandparents’ garage which had only one small living room, bedroom, and a kitchen that was even smaller. It smelled old. I did not like it the first time I walked up those raggedy stairs made of rotten wood. In the middle of the front room was an old stove that burned wood and once it got hot, it would turn a bright hot red. On a rainy and stormy day it would be lightning hard outdoors. The whole house would rock on its foundation like a rocking chair. Life was not easy living over my grandparents’ garage. I did not like our new home at all. My mom kept a nice and neat house, but this was not like the other house. During the day we watched the trains on the track pull into the coal yard to load up. Every night after we got into bed we would hear the train on the tracks again pulling lots of train boxcars full of coal.
Things seemed to go from good to worst. My mom’s decisions were affecting all of our lives. I remember the day my mom met her lifelong boyfriend. I remember that day very well because that meeting would change my life and end my childhood forever.
It was a very hot summer morning and my mom woke all of the children up, bathed and dressed us. She dressed my brothers in their little short sets with bow ties and white shoes. My sister and I were dressed in cute dresses that had starched slips that scratched our legs as we walked with white buckled shoes. My mom put on this beautiful pink dress with a pink belt, and white high heels to show off her big legs. She always smelled good.
The girls held hands and walked together and the boys did the same while my mom walked behind us. We all walked downtown which was on 17th Street. We kept walking until we came to this barbershop with a red and white pole that kept turning. My mom walked us into the shop and told us to sit together and be quiet. There were two men in this barbershop and they were cutting men’s hair. They had three barber chairs, a real shiny floor, and a big fan over our head that was turning slowly. There were clipper’s hanging on the side of the desk where they were working. All three chairs had bottles of green colored water on each desk. Mirrors were everywhere.
My mom stood up. As she was looking out of the door, she saw one of her friends, Ms.Veronica come by. She told us to stay and she went out the door and talked to her. As she was walking slowly out the door, she was twisting her hips and I saw the barber in the first chair watching her every move. Even as she stood outside with her hand on her hip talking to the woman, he continued to watch her. When the barber finished his customer, he went to the sink, washed his hands, and then went outside. My mom, her friend, and he stood outside talking and laughing.
My mom and the man came back into the shop, and he cut my brother Darnell’s hair, first. Then he cut my Brother Greg’s hair as my mother stood by the barber and watched. My mom and this man were talking and smiling at one another. Then he brushed my brother’s hair, removed the apron, and my brother jumped out of the chair. My mom got a piece of paper from him and wrote something down. My mom came over to us and introduced him. The man made it clear that he was not just a barber, but he owned this barbershop business, pieces of real estate property, and someday he would be a millionaire. This man was very light skinned with a shiny gold tooth on the right and green eyes that scared me the first time I saw them. My mom appeared to be impressed with this man. He introduced himself as Luther Cornell Yates, Jr.
Later on in my life I found out Luther Yates was born in Macon, Virginia to the parents of Eva and Luther Cornell Yates, Sr. He always addressed them as Mama and Poppa. Luther Cornell Yates Jr. was the seventh of ten children, which he said made him the blessed child.
He was a farmer boy who worked his Daddy’s fields. He quit school at an early age to help his father on the farm. Life on the farm was very poor. When he finished working the fields in the day, his evenings were filled with customers whose hair he cut. He said he learned to cut hair on an old stump in the back yard and he claimed people would come from miles around and wait all day just to get a haircut by this gifted boy. Luther wanted to be more than a struggling farmer; he wanted to be rich and well known. At the age of 18, he left the farm in Macon with only ten cents in his pocket, as the story was told, and moved to the city.
My mom said it was time to go because she had some things to do. Mister Yates gave all of us a dollar before we left. We walked down 17th Street until we came to the 5 & 10-cent store called Woolworth’s, where we bought toys. The girls bought a jump rope and bobby jacks, the boys got a bag of marbles and a small ball. On the way to the next store there was a photographer who was taking pictures. My mom told him she wanted him to take our picture. He sat all four of us on this bench with my brothers on the left and my sister and I on the right. He told us to smile and he took our picture. We left him and went to the ice cream parlor and had an ice cream cone. After that my mom called a cab to take us back home.
That evening she was smiling and singing while she was preparing dinner. After feeding us and getting us ready for bed, she started to dress. I sat in the corner of the front room and just watched her as she prepared herself for this date. She was a pretty lady. Her skin was a pecan brown and very smooth. I always loved to watch her as she put on her stockings. First, she would roll them down in her hands then hold out one leg and pull them up until she reached the garter. Then she would put out the other leg and do the same. The stockings would look so nice on her big legs. When I would rub up against them they were silky and soft. Her hair was long and black. She would always wear her hair in an upsweep position. My mother looked good in every thing she put on. Once she finished dressing, she stood in front of the mirror and turned all around so she could see how nice she was looking.
Soon there was a knock on the door, it was my Uncle Max. He had come over to babysit us so my mom could go out on her date. She told us all to go to bed and I heard her rushing out the door. I looked around the corner of the room as she reached back into the door to grab her purse. I tiptoed out the room and went into the front room and looked out the window. I saw a big, shiny, blue car parked in the driveway. This man got out and opened the car door for her and he was smiling. Then I saw the gold tooth just shining and I knew who he was. It was the man from the barbershop, who had cut my brothers’ hair earlier that day. It was the barber, Mister Luther Cornell Yates Jr. I could then hear my Uncle Max coming up the stairs, and I quickly ran back and jumped in the bed.
After that night, my mom went out a lot and my uncle kept us night after night. Sometimes my mom would not return home until the next day. She started bringing in lots of bags and in those bags were new expensive clothes she would put on to go on her dates. He even bought her jewelry and good smelling perfumes.
This went on forever to me because my mom did not have time in the evenings to be with us. In the morning she was always on the phone with him making plans to be with him that evening, and so we were left another night without her there with us. Shortly after those nights out, I recall my mom started getting sick. She was throwing up all the time. She would be so sick that she would lie down on the bed for most of the day. Then her stomach started to grow larger and she began to gain weight. The light-skinned barber started coming up the stairs and in the house.
One day when we came home from school, my mom was not there. My grandma told us she had gone to the hospital to have a baby and she was going to keep us until my mom returned home. She had given birth to a little girl and named her Heather Annette Oakes. In about three days she came home with this baby wrapped in a beautiful pink blanket. Even though this was Luther’s baby, her last name was Oakes like our last name because my mother was still married to my father, Darnell W. Oakes. She used his Marine medical benefits for the doctor and hospital expenses for having the baby. In reality, Heather was my mother’s and Luther Cornell Yates Jr.’s, the barber, first child together.
That evening when my mom bought the baby home, I walked over to the baby’s crib which was in the living room. I pulled the blanket back and I saw a little light baby who was crying. She looked like the barber that my mom was dating, almost white. When I turned around he was standing there with those scary green eyes reaching out to hold me. I started twisting and turning my body to get from his grip. He had this real sneaky laugh that I can hear in my head even now. Then he said,
“You see my baby, ain’t she pretty?”
“Look at me!”
I took one look and ran out of the room. Since the baby was born he was always there at the house. One day he bought his brother Gordon over to see his baby. I recall Gordon asking Luther the barber,
“What about your wife and children you have at home?” He replied,
“I am a Muslim, my religion will allow me to have as many wives as I can and as long as I financially take care of them then there is no problem.”
“Remember lil’ bro, I am the boss, I got this under control!”
I later realized my mother knew the barber was married with children. Luther Cornell Yates, Jr. was married to Joann Reid Yates whom he married September 1, 1944. To this union were six children. Joann knew that L.C. (this is what he wanted people to call him, short for Luther Cornell) was seeing a woman in Wakefield. My mom had met L.C. before the barbershop meeting. I was told; she met him at a nightclub, where he played in a band. She accepted the fact that she was his mistress.
Before she started seeing this barber, my mother had lots of time for us. She would play with us, take us to the movies, and treat us to popcorn and ice cream. But now, from the time she got up in the morning until the time we went to bed, she would be preparing to leave us every chance she could, which was often. The house was always cold, and we did not appear to have a lot of money. However we had each other. My brothers, my sisters, and I were very close then.
That summer of 1956, my mother took us around the corner from my grandparents’ house to pull up weeds and clean up this yard. I remember that there was so much debris and wild roots to pull up, it seemed like we would never finish. L.C. would come out where we were working and tell us this is where he was going to build a house for our mother and us all to live. He said our new house would have three bedrooms, a large kitchen, a bathroom, a living room, and a porch. I was so happy because it sounded like the house we had moved from before we moved in the apartment over my grandparents’ garage. Now my brothers will not have to hide under the steps until their school friends left so they could come up the stairs. He called us all together and told us he was our Daddy and we were to call him “Daddy”. He even told my mama, to call him Daddy, too, and she did.
Within the next few weeks, Daddy started construction on the lot to build us a house as he had promised. My mom would have us up late at night while she was painting and cleaning. We all would fall asleep in the house because she would be working so late getting the house ready. Within six months the house was completed. We moved in, and it was a nice house. I remember you came in the back door and you walked into the kitchen. The next room was like the dining room, and then there was the living room which led to the front porch. To get to the bedrooms you had to come in the dining room and facing that room was Mama’s bedroom. Then, to the left down the hall was the girls’ room with the baby’s crib and to the right of her room was the boys’ room.
After the house was completed, Daddy began to come by the house every night. When he closed the barbershop at night he would come to our house and stay until late. He never slept at the house; he would be gone in the morning. I was only five years old at this time but I felt a major change had taken place in my life.
Now Daddy had become the “King of the castle.” That’s how Mama addressed him sometimes. The first thing I remember let me know he was taking over was when he started eating at the house. One of the first rules he implemented and mama made sure we followed it to the letter was; we children were not allowed to eat until Daddy had finished eating. We all had to come in and sit down and watch Daddy eat, and then when he was finished, we could eat. My mother had begun to place him as number one. Also, when he came in we were told to do whatever he wanted. Our job was to serve him without question. It was obvious my mother had fallen deeply in love with this man.
Another one of Daddy’s rules was that he wanted all the girls to greet him “properly” with a kiss, not on the cheeks, but directly in the mouth. This was to be done when we entered into the room for the first time or when we left the premises. As a five-year-old little girl, I did not want to kiss any man, especially in the mouth. I hated kissing him like that and having to greet this man called Daddy this way, but my mother insisted and I had no choice.
When I would hear him coming into the house in the morning, I would run and hide but my mama would call my name and make me come and kiss him. I made it abundantly clear through my body language that I did not want to kiss him. I would start to cry and after I kissed him, she would send me to my room. When Daddy left for the barbershop, Mama would argue and fuss and sometimes even beat me for my behavior. So I learned early on that if I did not want any beatings, I had to obey.